
I’ve been a little obsessed with Middle Eastern food lately, and for good reason: it’s a cuisine bursting with bold, unexpected flavours that linger long after the first bite. That’s why I had to share this Ma’amoul cookie recipe—a treat that’s as beautiful as it is delicious.
One of my most treasured kitchen companions is Jerusalem by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi. Ever since I baked the Chocolate Krantz Cake, I’ve hardly gone a week without pulling this book from my shelf, cooking or adapting something from its pages. It’s a feast for the senses, filled with recipes that make the mouth water, stunning photography, glimpses of daily life, and enchanting stories of flavours from childhood.
“The flavours and smells of this city [Jerusalem] are our mother tongue: wild herbs picked on school trips, days in markets, the smell of dry soil on a summer’s day, goats and sheep roaming the hills, fresh pitas, chopped parsley, chopped liver, black figs, syrupy cakes, crumbly cookies.” – Ottolenghi & Tamimi
Ma’amoul (or Ma’amul) are traditional cookies enjoyed at the end of Ramadan for Eid al-Fitr. Soft, spiced, and often filled with sweet dates, they are one of the most beloved treats across the Arab world—and there are endless varieties to explore.

Ma’amoul are delicate, crumbly shortbread-style cookies that have been a beloved treat across the Middle East for generations. Traditionally made with semolina and sometimes a touch of flour, they are filled with dates, nuts, or a combination of both, creating a soft, fragrant centre encased in a crisp, tender shell. Each cookie is often pressed into intricate moulds or painstakingly shaped by hand, with patterns that range from geometric designs to floral motifs—every one a tiny work of art.
Once baked, ma’amoul are generously dusted with icing sugar, transforming them into little snowball-like treasures that look almost too pretty to eat. But bite into one and you’ll find a perfect balance of textures: a slightly crisp exterior that melts in your mouth, giving way to a rich, moist, aromatic filling. The subtle warmth of cinnamon, the floral whisper of rose water, and the citrusy hint of orange blossom make the experience more than just taste—it’s a sensory celebration of culture and tradition.
Beyond their flavour, ma’amoul carry stories and memory. They are the cookies that mark festive gatherings, the ones passed from hand to hand during Eid, the treats made in bustling kitchens with laughter, conversation, and family rituals. Each one holds not just a blend of ingredients, but the sense of joy, hospitality, and shared heritage that makes them so much more than a biscuit—they are a little edible piece of celebration.

Ma’amoul are far more than a sweet treat—they are a ritual, a marker of celebration, and a symbol of generosity and hospitality. In homes across the Middle East, these cookies are synonymous with Eid, family gatherings, and the closing of Ramadan. Baking ma’amoul is often a communal affair: generations of women come together in kitchens filled with laughter, conversation, and the comforting aroma of butter, nuts, and fragrant spices.
Sami Tamimi fondly recalls a woman the children called “Auntie,” who would visit every house in his neighbourhood towards the end of Ramadan to help families make ma’amoul. She guided the hands of mothers and daughters alike, teaching them the precise folding, pressing, and filling that make each cookie a little work of art. Platters piled high with ma’amoul, dusted with icing sugar so they looked like little snowballs, were a common sight—ready to be passed to guests, gifted to neighbours, or set aside for those who could not make their own.
These cookies carry with them the values of sharing and connection. Each batch is a reminder of patience, care, and attention to detail, and the act of baking them becomes a way to pass down skills, stories, and cultural memory from one generation to the next. They are festive, yes, but also deeply personal: each cookie embodies the hands that made it, the home in which it was baked, and the love and community that surrounds it.
To make ma’amoul today, even outside the Middle East, is to touch a thread of this rich cultural tapestry—to invite a sense of ritual, generosity, and celebration into your own kitchen. The cookies aren’t just eaten; they are shared, gifted, and savoured as part of a tradition that is centuries old.

Ma’amoul are wonderfully diverse, with their differences often telling a story of region, family tradition, and personal taste. Traditionally, the cookies vary in both filling and shape. Date-filled ma’amoul are usually round and flat, offering a soft, caramel-like sweetness that melts in the mouth. Nut-filled versions—whether pistachio, walnut, or a combination—are domed, with a rich, slightly crunchy texture that contrasts beautifully with the shortbread casing.
Some modern or adapted recipes, like the one I’ve shared here, combine dates and nuts in a single filling, creating a more complex, layered flavour that is both sweet and subtly earthy. Spices such as cinnamon, together with rose water and orange blossom, lift the flavours further, creating a cookie that is fragrant, tender, and utterly irresistible.
Even within the same region, each family’s ma’amoul can look and taste slightly different. Some press intricate floral or geometric patterns into the dough; others prefer a simple hand-shaped dome or a fork-pressed design. The choice of nuts, the balance of spices, or the amount of floral water all create subtle variations, so no two batches are ever exactly the same.
In this way, ma’amoul are not just cookies—they are personal, edible expressions of culture, memory, and home. Every bite carries the signature of the hands that shaped it and the story of the kitchen it came from, making them a tiny, delicious celebration of heritage.
Prep: Approx 1 hour | Cook: 15 mins | Total: Approx 1 hr 15 mins | Servings: Approx 30 cookies
These delicate, spiced shortbread-style cookies are filled with a fragrant mix of dates and pistachios, lightly scented with rose water and orange blossom. Perfect for Eid or any festive occasion, they’re soft, crumbly, and dusted with icing sugar for a magical finish. A sprinkle of icing sugar transforms each cookie into a little snowball of celebration, and the floral aroma will fill your kitchen with festival scents.

Ingredients:
350g Semolina
40g Plain Flour
90g Caster Sugar
180g Salted Butter, cubed
3 tablespoons Orange Blossom Water
2 tablespoons Rose Water
200g Pistachios
45g Medjool Dates
1 teaspoon Ground Cinnamon
Instructions:
Make the pastry:
1. Combine semolina, flour, and 40g caster sugar in a large bowl.
2. Add the cubed butter and rub in with your fingers until mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
3. Add 2 tbsp orange blossom water, 1 tbsp rose water, and 1 tbsp water. Bring together into a ball with your hands.
4. Knead gently on a clean surface for 5 minutes until smooth.
5. Cover with a damp cloth and rest for 30 minutes.
Prepare the filling:
6. Place pistachios, dates, 50g caster sugar, cinnamon, 1 tbsp orange blossom water, and 1 tbsp rose water in a food processor.
7. Blitz until a coarse paste forms.
Mould the cookies:
8. Preheat oven to 180°C (350°F). Keep a bowl of water handy to dampen hands while shaping dough.
9. Divide dough into approx 30 pieces.
10. Roll a piece into a ball, flatten in your hand, and lift edges to form a small ‘pot’ about 2.5cm high and 3mm thick.
11. Fill with a heaped tablespoon of filling and pinch the dough to seal.
12. Roll into a ball again, flatten between palms to 3cm high, then either place on a lined baking tray or press into a ma’amoul mould.
13. If not using a mould, press gently with a fork to create a pattern.
14. Bake 12–14 minutes until cooked through but still pale.
15. Cool on a wire rack and dust liberally with icing sugar before serving.
Sensory Tips:
- Enjoy the fragrance: rose water and orange blossom make the kitchen smell like a festival.
- Icing sugar is more than decoration—it softens the edges and gives the perfect snowball effect.
- Serve with a warm cup of tea or coffee to enhance the spices and floral notes.
- Let children sprinkle the sugar or shape the dough for a fun, hands-on experience.
I’ll be honest—I have neither the skill nor the patience to shape each cookie by hand into the intricate designs you might see in traditional ma’amoul. Instead, I picked up a lovely decorative mould from Persepolis, an online Aladdin’s cave of Middle Eastern goodies. If you’re local to Peckham, Sally’s shop is worth a visit—it’s reportedly a hidden gem, with a small café and a menu that changes frequently, adding a little extra magic to the shopping trip.
Even with a mould, a light dusting of icing sugar is essential. It’s that final flourish that transforms each cookie into a little snowball of celebration, making them instantly festive and irresistible. The patterns pressed into the dough—whether floral, geometric, or simple lines—add a sense of ceremony, turning baking into a creative ritual.
For those who enjoy hands-on fun, shaping cookies freehand can also be incredibly rewarding. Pinching, pressing, or even using a fork to make gentle patterns allows each batch to carry your personal touch, even if imperfect. This is where baking becomes an act of storytelling: the design of each cookie tells a story, marking the care and attention you’ve put into it.
Even though this version of ma’amoul isn’t as dainty as the traditional Ottolenghi & Tamimi examples, it retains the classic short, dry casing, the moist, nutty centre, and that delicate floral aroma from rose water and orange blossom. Whether moulded, freehand, or sprinkled with your own creative twists, decoration is less about perfection and more about celebrating the senses, sharing joy, and making each cookie feel special.
For families, this is a perfect moment to involve children—let them press the dough, sprinkle the sugar, or gently press patterns. Not only does it make baking fun, but it’s also a way of passing on culinary skills, patience, and the joy of celebration from one generation to the next.

Even with a straightforward recipe, a few little tweaks can make a big difference in texture, flavour, and appearance. Start with soft, plump dates for an easier filling—if your dates are firmer, a quick soak in warm water will help them blend smoothly without losing sweetness.
Chilling your dough briefly before shaping not only makes it easier to work with, it also helps prevent cracks and ensures the cookies hold their shape beautifully. When pressing the dough into a mould, a light brush of water or a quick sprinkle of flour can keep patterns crisp and defined, giving each cookie that delicate, artisanal look.
Baking time is key: aim for lightly golden cookies, not deeply browned, so the casing remains tender, crumbly, and shortbread-like. Overbaking can dry out the centre, so keep a close eye in the last few minutes.
Small touches elevate the experience: a generous dusting of icing sugar adds visual charm and a soft melt-in-the-mouth sweetness; sprinkling a few chopped pistachios on top creates a festive flourish; and pairing the cookies with a fragrant cup of tea or coffee enhances the subtle notes of rose water, orange blossom, and cinnamon.
Finally, don’t forget the joy of making them part of a ritual. Involve children or friends in shaping, pressing, or sprinkling—the process is as much about creating memories and sharing celebration as it is about the end result. Even the smallest kitchen gestures—rolling dough, pressing a mould, or dusting sugar—help turn baking ma’amoul into a sensory, joyful, and festive experience.

Ma’amoul are wonderfully adaptable, making them perfect for experimenting with flavours or working with whatever’s in season. In autumn, try swapping pistachios for walnuts or pecans for a warmer, earthy note. For a festive touch, bright green pistachios pop visually and add their signature nutty richness. Almonds lend a delicate, buttery flavour that pairs beautifully with subtle spices.
The fillings themselves are a canvas for creativity. While dates are classic, dried figs, apricots, or a mix of chopped nuts and dried fruits create a subtle twist on tradition. You can even add a touch of orange zest or a sprinkle of cardamom to make each batch your own.
Floral waters—rose water and orange blossom—can also be adjusted according to taste. A few extra drops make the cookies more aromatic and fragrant, filling your kitchen with festival scents. For a milder touch, reduce slightly to let the natural sweetness of the nuts and dates shine through.
For a playful family twist, involve children in creating flavour combinations or adding decorative toppings. A sprinkle of finely chopped pistachios, edible rose petals, or even a dash of cocoa powder can make each batch visually stunning and uniquely yours. Ma’amoul are forgiving, adaptable, and endlessly creative—perfect for celebrating any season, festival, or kitchen adventure.

Ma’amoul are as much a feast for the senses as they are for the taste buds. A simple dusting of icing sugar transforms each cookie into a little snowball of celebration, softening the edges and giving them a magical, festive appearance. The moment you bring the dough into your hands, the tactile pleasure of rolling, pressing, and shaping sets the tone: gentle pressure, the smoothness of the butter, the slight grain of semolina—each movement is quiet, meditative, and satisfying.
The aroma is intoxicating: the subtle warmth of cinnamon mingles with the floral whisper of rose water and the citrusy lift of orange blossom, filling the kitchen with a scent that feels like a festival. As the cookies bake, these fragrances deepen, carrying through the home and making every corner feel celebratory.
Even the visual and auditory senses are engaged. The small domes and patterned tops of the cookies invite admiration, while the faint crackle as they cool on the wire rack signals that perfect balance of crispness and tenderness. Each cookie is a little masterpiece, and the process of making them becomes a ritual of joy and anticipation.
Baking ma’amoul is also a perfect opportunity to share the magic with children. Let them press the dough into moulds, carefully fill the centres, or sprinkle the finishing sugar. In doing so, you’re not just teaching baking skills—you’re passing down patience, attention to detail, and the joy that comes from creating something beautiful with your own hands. Every snow-dusted cookie then becomes a shared memory, a celebration of hands, hearts, and heritage.

Absolutely. Ma’amoul can be baked a day or two in advance and stored in an airtight container, allowing the flavours to meld beautifully.
Yes—unbaked, shaped cookies freeze well for a few weeks. Bake them from frozen, adding a minute or two to the baking time.
No problem! Shape them with your hands into small rounds or domes and dust with icing sugar. They’ll still be charming and delicious.
Traditional ma’amoul use butter, but plant-based margarine works well as a substitute.
Definitely. Walnuts, almonds, or pistachios all work beautifully. You can also experiment with dried apricots, figs, or a mix of dates and nuts for a unique flavour combination.
Chilling the dough briefly before shaping helps prevent cracks, and avoid overbaking—they should be lightly golden, not deeply browned.
Yes! They can press the dough into moulds, fill the centres, or dust the cookies with icing sugar. It’s a lovely way to pass on baking skills and enjoy a festive kitchen activity together.
Keep them in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a week. For longer storage, freeze unbaked or baked cookies in a sealed container.
Traditional recipes often include rose water or orange blossom water, giving the cookies their signature delicate fragrance. Adjust the amount to your taste.
Classic recipes use semolina or wheat flour, so they are not gluten-free. However, you can experiment with gluten-free flours like rice flour or a mix of gluten-free blends—results may be slightly different in texture.
The snow-like coating is both decorative and symbolic, signalling celebration. In many homes, platters piled high with white-topped cookies were a visual treat during Eid, inviting guests to take part in the joy.
Traditionally, date-filled cookies are round and flat, while nut-filled ones are domed. Shape not only identifies the filling but also reflects regional and family preferences, passed down through generations.
The word “ma’amoul” roughly translates to “filled” or “made” in Arabic, a nod to the cookies’ stuffed centres. It’s a simple name for a treat that carries so much cultural richness.
Absolutely. From Palestine to Lebanon, Syria, and beyond, subtle differences in filling, spices, and decoration mark each region. Some families even have secret recipes handed down for generations, making every batch a little piece of history.
Traditionally, fillings are separate, but blending nuts and dates produces a richer, more complex flavour and a soft, moist centre. It’s an innovation that balances tradition with a modern, indulgent twist.
While they are most famously tied to Eid al-Fitr (marking the end of Ramadan), ma’amoul are also enjoyed at other festivals and family gatherings, making them a versatile symbol of celebration and togetherness.

With a little imagination, ma’amoul could be likened to the trusty British fig roll—but far fancier, more exotic, and fragrant with the subtle floral notes of rose water, the citrus lift of orange blossom, and the gentle warmth of cinnamon. Each cookie is a miniature celebration in itself: soft, spiced, and lightly crumbly, with a moist, nutty centre that surprises with every bite.
They are made to be shared, gifted, or savoured slowly with a quiet cup of tea, but the magic begins long before that first taste. Rolling, pressing, and dusting each little snowball of dough transforms the kitchen into a festival of scents and textures. Involving children, friends, or family in this process adds another layer of joy—passing down skills, stories, and the simple delight of creating something beautiful by hand.
Even a small batch brings a touch of Eid magic into your home. The aroma alone—floral, spiced, and comforting—invites celebration, while the act of making ma’amoul transforms ordinary baking into a ritual of joy, connection, and generosity. They are more than cookies: they are edible memories, fragrant little gifts of heritage, and a sweet reminder that some traditions are made to be savoured.
Note: Note: Originally published April 2016; updated January 2026.
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